My Side Of The Story
by Princess180
Summary: Different characters from the series tell their sides of what happened during Harry's seven years at Hogwarts and afterwards. HG, RHr, NL.
1. Geometry

Geometry  
  
Disclaimer: I do solemnly swear that I am not Joanne Kathleen Rowling, so I'm not making any money from this (unless someone would like to pay me...). Don't sue me, 'cause unless someone takes me up on my previous offer you won't get anything out of it.  
  
I wish that they taught geometry at Hogwarts, not because I have any particular fondness for math, I was sort of good at it, though, because it appears to me that my entire life has been based on geometry. My love life, anyway, and what does it matter if you know how to make feathers fly if you can't choose between two (or three, or four) girls? Alright, Hermione, shush, I wasn't serious.  
  
You don't get how a love life can be a geometrical shape? Well, then, let me tell you, it won't take long, and I promise it has a reasonably happy ending. Yes, Ron, I know that I'm telling a love story, I've spent far too much time around my wife. But we won't get to talk about her until later, well, in a few paragraphs at the very least, but I'm not letting on who she is just yet. Suspense is good for you, heightens your awareness, as Moody would say.  
  
In my very first year, when I was eleven I managed to get myself very neatly into a love triangle. I had a gigantic crush on Hermione Granger, I know, a bit clichéd, aren't I? The problem is that my best mate liked her too, we all know how that one turned out. But that doesn't mean I wasn't interested.  
  
That was until I turned twelve and realized that a certain pretty, oriental Ravenclaw Seeker existed. Cho Chang managed to get me into something remotely resembling a rectangle wearing a hat. I still had lingering feelings for Hermione, Ron began his until-recently infamous taste for anything that moved AND Hermione, oh, shut up, mate. Yes, honey, I know that's a bad word, Daddy shouldn't have said it, should he have? As I was saying before my precious toddler and best mate interrupted me, I liked Cho, Hermione and Ginny Weasley was absolutely insane about me. It means that she really, really loved me, baby girl, why don't you go play?  
  
I watched Cho Chang every opportunity I could get, she was truly gorgeous, you know, but my feelings for Ginny were very remote and sort of pitiful, and well, my emotions for Hermione just sort of went away that year. Ron, you can go back to your normal color now, by the way. Yes, Hermione, I did mean to tell you that sometime, in fact, I just told you. Well, I was crushing on Cho like only pubescent boys can- STOP THROWING YOUR DOLLY AT MOMMY'S LAMP- and Ginny was turning an interesting shade of purple ever single time she looked at me. But nothing truly interesting romantically, anyway happened that year. Oh, except I saved Ginny from a bloody great snake, but I suppose that could be blamed on Fawks. But it made the geometry of life much more interesting for the next five years. Well, baby girl, if you hadn't thrown the dolly at the lamp Mommy and Daddy wouldn't have gotten so angry with you. Thanks, Sugar, I'd love a cup of tea.  
  
My third year was fun in it's own, triangular, way. I played Quidditch against Cho a few times and actually had at least one, coherent conversation with her. Ginny began to act like something other than a dumbstruck Barbie around me. I learned a little bit more about her from Ron that year, and that's what kept it from becoming a straight line, oh, how I'd long for the peace of that! No, baby girl, I didn't want a piece of cake, I meant peace like when there's no fighting. Yes, I suppose if you went and asked very nicely Mommy might just give you a little bit of the chocolate cake before dessert.  
  
And fourth year, the year of that blasted, accursed ball. Ginny went with Neville and I was actually jealous. Cho went with Cedric Diggory (May he rest in peace) and I went with Parvati Patil (I think, I can't quite remember, it was a Patil twin, anyway). I was green with jealousy, because my only two love interests were otherwise occupied and I was bored out of my mind. Hermione went with THE Viktor Krum (fondly referred to as "Vicky" by Ron for years afterwards), Ron went with whichever Patil I didn't go with, but those two have always been interchangeable. The one who was in Ravenclaw.  
  
Fifth year, pretty much every damned thing on the planet exploded and I can't imagine the sort of configurations we were in. Ron was watching Hermione like a hawk and turned green at the mention of Viktor Krum, Hermione was dating Viktor but was in the early stages of love with Ron. I was "dating" Cho if you could call it that- NO! DON'T YOU DARE TAKE MOMMY'S KNIFE OFF THE TABLE! DO YOU HEAR ME, BABY GIRL? Thank you very much, you know that it's sharp- sorry. And Ginny went out with Michael Corner and then Dean Thomas. I don't know what that was, something. But the Cho and Corner ended up together. Oh, and Luna Lovegood came into the picture, and I have to admit that both Neville and I were totally infatuated with her, in our own, twisted, ways. No, Ron, I really don't think that I was that infatuated with her- RON! There is a CHILD in the room! Thank you, Sugar, when'll dinner be ready? Great, I just want to finish this up.  
  
Well, in my sixth year I dated Luna for three months. That was fun, but a little odd seeing as I think I'm the one who's supposed to be late for dates. And Luna never really put any effort into the relationship, so we just sort of mutually decided not to go out. I think Neville's thankful for that. Ron and Hermione FINALLY got together, after he had been girl-hopping for a year and we all felt treated to a whole three weeks of peace between those two, now it was only that pesky war with Lord Voldemort- Honestly, Ron, he's dead, it's nothing to be afraid of- to worry about. Oh, and every male in our school was in love with a certain Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, Ms. Fleur Delacour, but she was taken, by Bill Weasley. GIVE ME THREE MINUTES SUGAR! I'M ALMOST DONE HERE! I got to know Ginny Weasley a lot better, but also a Hufflepuff named Georgia, who I went out with from that Christmas to June. And Draco Malfoy spent the time alternately drooling over Ginny or polishing his prefects badge and bragging about the dark lord being alive again. This would remotely have resembled a rectangle with arms, I suppose. Baby Girl, could you go get 'Mione from the washroom? It's almost time for dinner and Daddy has to finish what he's doing. Thank you.  
  
Then my seventh year came, and in the midst of a war, I kissed the world's most beautiful, sexy, talented, brilliant, strange and interesting woman for the first time- and wondered why I hadn't simply picked her up and done that the first time I ever met her. At King's Cross station, almost seven years before that. Yes, I fell in love with Ginny Weasley. And beat the dark lord. And lived to tell the tale, mostly for the benefit of Ginny Weasley.  
  
We were married in a huge, gauzy event two years later. And it's been five years since then, I'm a retired Auror teaching a few terms at Hogwarts while I'm deciding what to do now that I've decided to stop risking my life every day. Ginny has been back at work for two years now, since our little girl, Lilly was born, she's the most important thing in my life. My Lilly, she has my green eyes and her mother's hair and freckles, Dumbledore says she looks like her paternal grandmother in a lot of ways. Ginny is a Healer at the St. Mungo's pediatrics department, though she'll leave that position in three months, when our second child is born, and she's been talking about not going back. We live in Hogsmeade, close to Hermione and Ron, Ron's teaching flying at Hogwarts, we lost Madam Hooch in the war, while Hermione teaches Transfiguration, McGonagall retired three years ago.  
  
Well, darling, I think I stuck to the facts. Did I need to mention that? Really...really...let me tell you something about that, sugar...  
  
Lilly, baby girl, mommy's busy right now. Daddy's kissing her. 


	2. It's More Like Poetry, Anyway

**Disclaimer: Belongs to JKR. All hail her. Don't sue me whilst hailing, though. **

**A/N: Just a specialfull update before I leave for Europe. **

It's More Like Poetry, Anyway.

I'm sure you've all read my husband's slightly ridiculous and exaggerated tale of how we fell in love, well, he left out quite a bit . I love him dearly, but Harry James Potter is still male, and well, testosterone and a talent for telling love stories have _never_ gone together.  
  
Love is much more like poetry than it is like geometry, anyway, I think. But then, Harry might say that's just hormones, well, they're all his fault anyway. I know, I know, it sounds like my life revolves around one Harry Potter, but really it revolves around a little girl named Lillian Molly Potter, though we just call her Lilly. Harry's does too, though, he swears it's me and Lilly, together, but I know that I take a second place to his little girl and I don't mind it at all, he's taken the backseat quite happily these past three years as well. Though, if you slogged all the way through to the end of that tedium he calls a love life (only the last two paragraphs are worthwhile reading, anyway) you'll see that our marriage had some sort of stubborn refusal to fizzle out.  
  
Now, we'll start at Harry's first year, because up until then there had been no great love in my life, and when I saw Harry Potter my mindset switched from the "boys are icky" phase to the "I'm going to marry that boy" phase, strangely enough, I did marry him, but that doesn't happen for many people. I thought about him and talked about him that entire year. God, I was really insane about him, as he says in that thing, with full explanation of what the word means, at least I'm not too lazy to actually use a quill. Honestly, I think he's made up for the ten years that there wasn't any magic in his life at least ten times now! No one uses a quick- quotes quill when they don't work for the Prophet and have long, green nails.  
  
Sorry about that, my husband had just gotten back from putting Lilly to bed and thought that I should pause for a moment to kiss him, and then that moment lasted all night. And I've been a little bit tired from being pregnant right now, so he got Lilly off to her aunt's for the day and flew on his (now vintage, but he likes it) Fire-Bolt to the school, he was kind enough to leave me a note. "-Sugar, went to work, sent the baby to your mum's, sweet dreams, left breakfast on the stove. Love you, Harry." Cold omelets, lovely, Potter, just lovely.  
  
Well, asides from Tom taking me over, my first year at Hogwarts was mostly just about Harry, anything and everything that was Harry. Which, I think he'll admit, wasn't a whole heck of a lot at the time. But I did like him a lot, and I loved his eyes, I didn't know him as a person well enough to love him. Then he killed the thing that, to this day, he refers to as "That goddamned snake", or "That bloody great snake," I think he finds the word basilisk a bit unpronounceable or something. He'd probably say it's not nice to think about the thing that almost ate me, I don't think it almost ate me, I just prefer to think that I almost died but that, surprisingly, pulled a damsel-in-distress, or a DID as Harry calls them, and was rescued by a quite cute knight.  
  
So I thought it might be a good idea to spend a year getting over him, but that year turned into two in which I am almost absent in the saga of Harry's life, and not a whole hell of a lot happened . Oh, there was Michael Corner in my third and fourth years, I did give up on Harry, but that's quite different than falling out of love with someone, if you really put some thought into it, as I am assured Hermione did.  
  
My third year was dull, save for that ball to which Harry almost asked me but I went with Neville, met Michael Corner and had an all together wonderful time. Harry does it no justice in his piece, but I haven't to time to do it justice.  
  
My fourth year can only be described as the year I became friends with Sirius Black, that was a very important part of my life to that date, it still is important. Harry didn't know at the time how close Sirius and I had become, but when Sirius left his letter for Harry, which Harry received at the beginning of his sixth year, I received one as well. That was what really instigated Harry and I getting closer, I can't imagine why Sirius liked me quite so much, but still, he did. When I was talking with Sirius, at the end of that year, just before he died, it must have been April or so, I let it slip that I was still in love with his godson, Sirius just laughed at me, that great, doglike, laugh he had. I still miss that laugh, I think Harry does as well, Sirius's cousin, Tonks's mother, has that same laugh and Harry used to have to leave the room whenever he thought she might laugh. I remember I followed him quite a few times, but I'm off the point quite entirely aren't I? Sirius told me that he never expected any different and that I needn't worry, Harry and I "had the makings". I thought he was quite mad at the time, Harry agrees that he was slightly off his rocker, or prophetic, he can't tell which. Sirius told me that my name came up at least once a letter, and even Hermione's didn't do that, in that ridiculous biography of Harry's, in which I play such a small role, it neglects to inform us that yes, I, Ginny Weasley, was _friends_ with Harry that year. I didn't only go to the Ministry that night for Sirius and my brother, I didn't want Harry to do anything stupid, either, because I knew him well enough to love him by that time. Wasn't I supposed to be talking about Sirius at this point? Well, I became friends with that man and he was like an uncle to me, a very caring uncle, someone to look up to for treating adversity with a more sane manner than both Harry and I put together ever could. I certainly hope Lilly has better sense than her father and I when she grows up enough to have any sense at all.  
  
Well, that was almost as tedious as the drivel my husband wrote wasn't it? And I didn't even manage to squish that horrid affair with Dean Thomas into the whole mess, ah, well, I suppose it doesn't matter that much. It was rather short and only served to prove to me that no other man could make me feel the way Harry could, when he kissed me. Yes, I knew how that felt. Harry didn't tell the prodigious Ms. Rowling about this whole mess. Once, when we were leaving visiting Ron and Hermione, we kissed, by accident. Yes, one can kiss by accident, and as we learned, one can practically kiss for half an hour and then not speak about it for two years, if not longer. It was rather odd, really. We kissed and it was as if there were wild flames running through my body, over those few days he held me in his arms so often and comforted me, even as he did last night when I woke up from a horrible nightmare, but we never said anything. But, I think there was an understanding between the two of us that someday, somehow we'd end up together again. Harry may or may not agree with that, I'd have to find out whether or not he does.  
  
NOTE ADDED AT A LATER DATE: Harry thinks I'm off my rocker quite entirely, about that last statement, he said something about hormones in fact. They ARE his fault, though.  
  
Well, my fifth year, Harry's sixth, an interesting year, to be sure, we dated essentially everything that moved, the two of us. In some sort of wild attempt to forget each other, because I was the baby sister of six overprotective brothers and he was _**THE**_ Harry Potter. I used to love to repeat that to myself at least a thousand times a day. **_THE_** Harry James Potter, _**THAT**_ Harry James Potter, _**MY**_ Harry. Then I'd block out the last one and try to focus while he was on a date with Luna, and I'd only find myself at a window, watching them wander around the grounds in lazy circles, deep in conversations about Nargles and so on. I'll have you know that those two were never known to kiss under Mistletoe, though they never dated through Christmas. There was his Georgia, as well, a sweet girl, but she was widowed only a year later, there was a whirlwind romance with Oliver Wood and a wedding, then Oliver died during the final battle, leaving Georgia pregnant, seventeen and alone. Georgia Blanche-Wood is probably my hero, she had a baby at seventeen, who is now seven years old, and a very sweet little girl, and she took care of her while completing Healer training, to deal with all the trauma patients who resulted from the war. Georgia is now engaged to Seamus Finnegan, they've been dating since three years ago, but she still misses Oliver very much. There are many of those couples. Angelina, former Quidditch captain extraordinaire became an early widow due to my brother George, they were married when he was two years out of Hogwarts, three days before the final battle and he left, and died six months later due to a lingering curse. I miss George, and I don't think that Fred will ever get over it. They were so close, my twin brothers, and Mum, after loosing George, and with Bill, who lost his mind in a spat three weeks before the final battle to take care of, she can't enjoy being a grandmother the way she always thought's she'd be able too.  
  
I'm off topic again, aren't I?  
  
Well, that pretty much sums up my fifth year, so my sixth would logically come next. And that entire year can be summed up in a single moment; when I was told that Harry was dead. It was a secretarial mistake, and the most horrible moment of my life. For the past three weeks on that dreadful battlefield, that was once the Hogwarts grounds and is again now, I had been sneaking into his tent every night because the only thing that made either of us feel better was the other, but we still hadn't said anything, or even kissed. And I was told he was dead, and I thought that he would never know that I loved him and I started running, I don't know where I was going. I just started running, and I was caught in a pair of familiar arms, but I continued to struggle because I thought they couldn't be those arms- because those arms were supposedly splattered over the Forbidden Forest. I kicked and punched, but Harry is stronger than I am, and he just pulled me in a restraining embrace, rubbing my back soothingly, still not sure what was wrong, but knowing that he should calm me before trying to talk to me. When I had stopped crying I tried to force the words out of my mouth, 'I love you,' how hard is that to say? Very hard, I'll tell you. So I kissed him, and he kissed back, in front of a line of Aurors, over eighteen percent of whom would die in the next sixteen hours, we kissed for what we consider the first time. And then he held me, and whispered into my ear, sweet nothings that I can barely remember and won't repeat. Then he left, and he wanted me to stay safe. But I wouldn't leave him then, or let him leave me. So I followed him, and I won't talk about that day, but let's just say that twenty-seven percent of our forces died, thirty-eight percent were wounded, but we won. I am thankful that I didn't lose more to that twenty-seven. But a list of the dead is only respectful; George, Oliver Wood, Bill, Arthur Weasley, Flitwick, Trelawney, Sinistra and last, but never least, Fleur Weasley. Some say that Fleur would have died without Bill, anyway, but I personally hold the rather romanticized belief that Fleur Delacour was the only thing that could have brought my brother back from the edge he'd managed to tumble over. She left a baby named Thomas, who my Mother took in, and is raising, though Harry and I have volunteered more than once to take the six year old as our charge.  
  
After that, I didn't really see much of a point in continuing, I wanted to leave school, but Mum and Harry wouldn't let me. I wanted to kill myself, too, for a little while, and I almost did, once. I threatened to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower, near Christmas of my Seventh year, and I wouldn't have been the first to do so. But Hermione and Luna knew what to do with me, they called Harry from Auror Training and he stopped me. But neither of us wanted to be separated after that, and Dumbledore gave me permission to complete my NEWT year from Harry's London flat by correspondence. I can't describe how strange it was too live with Harry, we were just kids, but the war had made us grow up much faster than we would have, had we been anyone else at all, in any other time. We lived much like a married couple, I suppose, though we didn't have sex, not until I graduated from Hogwarts, but you don't want the details, do you? I still remember the first time I laughed in those long months, though, it was almost August, and I was preparing to start school, which was in London, so I would be able to stay with Harry, and Harry and I had been doing things together every day in anticipation of the fact that in a few weeks we'd be spending our days apart again, we'd gone out for a picnic, along with Ron and Hermione. I was sitting between Harry's legs and he was leaning up against a tree with his arms casually thrown around me, Ron and Hermione were running around throwing a ball and laughing their heads off together, Harry was watching them and eating, occasionally stopping to give me a bite of something, he's always seen it as his personal responsibility to make sure I'm well fed. Finally, Hermione and Ron returned, totally out of breath from where they'd been a few minutes ago, just out of our sight. And for no particular reason that I can remember they were still laughing, Ron said something, it's odd but I can't even remember what, and Harry laughed deeply behind me, then I let out a laugh. Harry was shocked, at first I think they thought I was hysterical, it was a sound they hadn't heard in so long, but then Harry realized that he knew my hysterical laugh and this wasn't it. He kissed the top of my head and squeezed me tighter to him, when I had stopped laughing he turned my head towards him and said, "That's my girl, your dad and George would have been proud of you, they both loved to laugh. And I love your laugh," he kissed me on the lips and squeezed me again.  
  
The year I got out of school, I began training as a Healer, that lasts three years, normally, but I only studied for two, because war measure were still in act at the time. Harry was pushed through Auror training in two years as well, and at the end of those two years, when I was nineteen, we were married. I think that the five years of our marriage deserve better treatment than Harry gave them though.  
  
We were married, and living in London, while he worked and I studied for the first year, and it was hectic. We barely saw each other, except on the weekends, in the final year, which should really have been two years, I was studying hard with friends who had gone through Hogwarts with me and I knew very well by that time. One of those friends was Ryan Thornton, and he was the thing that almost served Harry and I a divorce on a golden platter. Neither Harry nor I fell in love easily. We had problems trusting others, we had been betrayed in the past, our lives hadn't been easy, nor did we trust each other to remain faithful. Harry hated Ryan, because Ryan was in love with me, I won't lie, he was. But I wasn't in love with Ryan, Harry didn't see that though, well, he knew that, but he didn't... I'm sure you get my point. Harry and I had a huge fight towards June of that year, which ended with his storming out of the room in a fit, and leaving for three days. Those were the worst three days of our marriage, I spent them in bed, Hermione came over to say that Harry was staying with she and Ron, and as far as she could see he still loved me. Then she rolled her eyes and muttered 'men,' and left me with some chicken soup and clean sheets. Harry came back at the end of those three days, found me in bed and lay down with his arms around me as if nothing had ever happened. The next day I finally asked him why he had come back, if he'd thought I would cheat on him, 'I never said I though that,' he told me, 'I realized that I'd much rather you be happy without me than unhappy with me.' You'll have noticed the incoherency of that statement, so I looked at him and he explained himself, 'Hermione told me you were unhappy at it just struck me so hard in the heart that you were sad that I had left, and I realized that I loved you too much to see you unhappy; that I'd do whatever was best for you, no matter how angry I was.' I asked him if that meant he'd never wanted to come back, 'I'd never wanted anything more.' He responded, laughing and pecking me on the lips, then he sent me off to study for my finals, apologizing for having upset my studying. Harry treated me like his Queen for the next few months, then we settled back into our normal routine of constant domestic spats that always end six minutes later with a kiss and an apology.  
  
The second year of our marriage was certainly interesting, Harry was more or less constantly on assignment, so that when I realized I was pregnant I couldn't tell him for three weeks, because he was in Canada on assignment, nosing around for Tom's American supporters under the guise of being a school teacher and I couldn't write to him, he was ostensibly a single orphan. I was so angry. He tried to be home as much as possible while I was pregnant, but that just didn't work out, all in all, he was there for five months of a nine-month event, and when I gave birth to Lilly he was there five minutes before she was born. And that little girl stole his heart in thirty seconds flat. Lilly is my husband's baby, definitely, that girl is a daddy's girl. That day was also our second anniversary, Harry had forgotten to get me anything, but I told him that Lilly was the best gift anyone could ever give.  
  
I took the entire next year off work, and Harry quietly began to process of phasing out of the Auror department of the ministry, he wanted to see his little girl grow up, but he didn't want to leave the world in bad hands. He was home much more that year, and we were together much more. We spent a lot of our time at the Burrow, to all purposes, Mum had two people totally dependent on her, Bill and Thomas. We tried to ease her burden however we could, I've become Thomas' favorite aunt (even though I'm the only one, by blood) and that little boy has eyes only for his hero, Harry Potter. I think that getting to play with the baby was just an added benefit. Fred spent time with us, as well, Harry is a surprisingly easy person to confide in, and he understands loss if anyone does. Fred has a wife, Alicia Spinnet, but neither of them was ready to start a family, maybe less for their own benefits than for Angelina, who remained very close to them, since George's half of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes went to her, automatically. It might have been hard for her to see them living the life she dreamed of having with George, they thought, that was only until Angelina approached Alicia to ask her if she was having trouble getting pregnant or something. I don't think Angelina will ever really move on, and no one has bothered to pressure her to do so, we all love her like a sister and we understand that she doesn't want a new husband. She wants George back, and if she can't have him, she won't have anyone. Harry and I even took care of Bill once or twice that year, no, let me amend that statement quite a bit, Harry and Lilly took care of Bill, I curled up in my old bedroom, or Apparated home, and cried until Harry put Lilly down for her nap and came to help me. Harry can deal with almost any crisis, now, before he'd get angry and throw things, but with a lot of work he got himself out of that, and he can act perfectly normal around Thomas, Angelina and even Bill. It would scare me if I wasn't the only one who got to see him cry when something bad has happened, or when Bill has had a bad day, hallucinations and so on. In the newspapers Harry has been described as emotionless, I'll assure you here that he isn't. We celebrated our anniversary and Lilly's first birthday at the Burrow that year, once Lilly was asleep with the four cousins she had been provided with after the war (Charlie and Deborah's daughter Chrissie, Percy and Penny's Clarisse, Thomas and Fred and Alicia's newborn, George), in Charlie's old room, Harry took me out. It was another one of those days where it was proved to me yet again that I had married the right man, he had set out a picnic ('I don't think we'll get an anniversary alone for the next seventeen years, Sugar, so I'm doing my best' he said) and candles, and a beautiful song by a muggle band I had always loved was playing. It's called "I love you" or something like that, and it's by the Bare Naked Ladies. I can never remember the titles of songs and I'm much to fat and lazy to go get the CD box just now.  
  
Sorry, Harry had just stepped into the room with Lilly in his arms, being 'quite' and I hadn't noticed that the entire time he was reading over my shoulder, he interrupted to say I wasn't fat, I was pregnant, then he handed me Lilly and took over the desk to grade papers, he says he can't believe how stupid this year's fifth year class is, he asked for an assurance that he wasn't that stupid at fifteen. I just sort of made a noncommittal noise in the back of my throat from where I was making dinner in the kitchen.  
  
Well, the third year we were married, only two years ago, Harry and I began to talk about having other children. I don't think that was the most important thing that happened that year, but it was mildly important, it just didn't come into effect for a couple years. Mum was ill for a month, she was almost sixty and under a lot of stress, and we took over care of Thomas for that month and a little while afterward. He loved having a 'little sister' and Lilly just adores him, Harry played Daddy to him, and since the only Daddy he's ever known isn't in any shape to be a proper father, he liked having someone to fall into the lake with (how they managed to do that while sledding I'll never know). Harry has kept that role, though the one time that Thomas called him Daddy, he explained very patiently and with great firmness that he was very honored, but he wasn't Tommy's daddy and he wanted Thomas to remember that he had his own father. It hasn't happened again, and Harry and Mum are happy that they don't have to stress the message very much, they would both feel better if Thomas always remembered his true roots. I don't know why Harry's so good at things like that, he just is. Lilly was growing so quickly that year, and she spent every day with her Auntie Angelina, who didn't really have much to do during the day, because she couldn't, or wouldn't, work at the place where George had spent so much of his time and there were little traces of him everywhere. Sometimes Angelina even has trouble looking at Fred, though they've become quite close, and in her role as everybody's favorite aunt she's taken a special amount of time for Fred and Alicia's three kids, George, Alyssa and Ella. Alyssa's a lot like George, you can tell, even though she's only two, sometimes she'll make a particular expression that only George every made, or she'll make a joke so daring (for a two year old, she's a real talker, I must say) that even Fred wouldn't have told it at that age. I went back to work in Healing Pediatrics, which I love, though the number of war orphans that have gone through my hands is getting too high, and the number of times I've thought about adopting one of them is much too high as well. Harry wouldn't say no if I asked him, I know that, so the decision not to do so is always mine. I can't believe how much this is beginning to sound like my mum, but I suppose I'm turning into her, yesterday I had _all_ my nieces and nephews over (there are six now, George, Alyssa, Ella, Thomas, Chrissie, Clarisse, her new brother, Anthony and two months after Harry and I had our second anniversary, Hermione and Ron had their first son, Allan). Anyway, all six of them were there and I was acting just like Mum, I was feeding people, bouncing babies and carrying on a conversation with Harry (who was tossing a Frisbee around with Thomas, Clarisse and Lilly out back) through the window. That year Harry also submitted his official resignation, though it would take until the next August for it to go through. For our anniversary and Lilly's birthday Harry took us to the Caribbean and it was like a second honeymoon, only with the baby, for Harry and I. It was a lot of fun, and it's when we first started to actually try for another baby, Harry and I both want a big family and we've spent a lot of time trying to make that happen, it just took longer the second time.  
  
Last year was amazing, it was the first year that the tolls of the war weren't part of my personal life in such a big way. Nobody gets over the death of their father, ever, or their brother, but I began to move on in a bigger way. I almost never had nightmares any more, except when Harry was on assignment and that is the worst time to have a nightmare, because Lilly mostly sleeps in our bed when her father isn't at home, partially, I think, because she doesn't want me to leave as well. I can't have Lilly wake up to see her mother sobbing her eyes out, it would be horrible for her. Lilly has seen me cry before, but that's not when I'm the only person in charge, she gets scared to see mummy cry and she goes to Harry, if I'm not already with him, he'll just take us both in his lap and quickly explain to Lilly that 'Mummy's just having a bad day, baby girl,' and she'll be quite happy, knowing that her daddy can make everything better, and then Harry will move on to the most difficult task of all, me. Harry is, as I'm sure I've mentioned, my rock, he can always make it better, for me and Lilly. If we ever lost Harry I don't think either of us could go on, in fact, I know I couldn't, and I don't think Lilly would ever be the same cheerful little girl again. For Lilly, daddy's tops, I might just be a close second though. Anyway, back to last year, I began to have fun in my life, a lot of fun. I laughed again, it was strange to think that all throughout Lilly's short life my laughter had been in short commodities, and mostly reserved only for times when we were just the three of us at home. I got up the nerve to crack a few jokes- I even pulled a prank on Harry, once, but it made me cry to hard when I realized that it was something George had done to me in my third year. But I think it was a big step, doing things I would have done with George, going places I would have gone with Dad. Like on the day Harry asked Angelina if she could keep Lilly overnight and came to collect me early at work (he'd cleared the whole thing with my superior all of an hour earlier). He took me on a walk around Muggle London, a tour, literally, seeing as I kept myself as separated from Muggle things as was possible, it made me sad to try to learn about them. When I protested Harry just said, quite simply, "I'm sorry, Gin, but its time. I had to go back to Godric's Hollow, Fred had to go back to work, and your mum and Angelina had to go back home you have to subject yourself to Muggle things." I will admit that he knows me altogether too well. He took me on a walk through London, pointing out landmarks and taking me to do little things, we went to go see a movie, and we did a bit of shopping. Then he took me home, I was ready to fall apart, actually I had been ready to fall apart the first time I saw a plug. Harry had already made dinner and he quickly heated it with a touch of his wand, he set it out, and instructed me to eat and then wouldn't let me cry, He actually told me, quite strictly not to cry, I never really knew why. The next day, when I hadn't had nightmares or cried, he told me that it was time to stop mourning them and start remembering them. "What is your happiest memory of George," he asked me, I told him about the memories of George on his wedding day, with Angelina on his arm and a perpetual smile that didn't let me think that in less than a year he'd be dead. He asked me about my best memory of my father, it was when my father had taken me to the Muggle town near us and shown me different objects that I had never been exposed too, he had been so enthusiastic. Harry told me that it was time to stop thinking about their deaths and start thinking about their lives, that with an outlook like that life would be a whole hell of a lot easier, that started the road to recovery for me. For our anniversary, I had news for Harry; I was pregnant, we had both been thinking about having another child for a long time, and the reality was a dream come true for both of us. I've said that we both wanted a big family before, but we were glad that our dream was actually coming through.  
  
This year has been even more frenzied than all the others thrown together, but Harry and I have finally figured out how to make life easier; screw sharing household responsibilities. When Harry's home from work in time he'll make dinner, clean up Lilly's room and give her a bath. When I'm home from work in time I'll do the same, we don't really keep a tally of whose done more recently. Harry has, I'm sure, because he treats me like a porcelain doll these days- delicate yet loved enough to be played with.  
  
Harry is holding Lilly just now, they are sitting in the leather chair in front of the fire, talking. I love to listen to their conversations, they're talking about Harry's day at work. Harry is trying to explain to her why she can't go to Hogwarts yet, but he isn't having a great deal of success, Lilly is just like I was, she wants to be a big girl- NOW! Harry has noticed that I'm watching them and has just winked at me, I'll smile back at him but try to restrain myself from laughing. Lilly has turned around to see what her father's is looking at and his now toddling over to me.  
  
"What Mama writing?" she wants to know. Harry is stretching behind her, and picking up the remnants of their before-bedtime snack. I notice that Lilly is still in her clothes, a situation I'll have to remedy sooner or later, if Harry doesn't first. It's almost eight-thirty and she should be in bed in ten minutes, so that Harry and I can read her a story.  
  
"Mama's writing about her life, Lilly," I explain, "maybe I'll read it to you someday."  
  
"Good story?" she asks curiously, Harry answers for me, coming up behind me and resting his hands on the side of my chair, barely touching my arms.  
  
"A very good story, baby girl," he chuckles, "I know because I'M in it!" Lilly laughs at this.  
  
"You being silly, Daddy," she complains.  
  
"I always wanted to be a silly Daddy," he replies, "what do you say we go put on your pajamas? Then Mommy will come in and we can read a bedtime story for you."  
  
"It's not bedtime." She argues, obviously quite put out by this turn of events. Harry looks to me, Lilly sometimes won't listen to him, but if I back him up she basically has too, in our house there's no higher authority than Mommy.  
  
"Daddy's telling the truth, honeybunch," I say, then I kiss the top of her head, and she stomps off after her father. As I'm watching them trudge down the hallway, I notice that they have the same walk, they swing their legs the same way or something like that.  
  
Two hours later I'm in bed and Harry is reading a favorite novel of his, The Lord of The Rings, written by a wizard with a thing for exploiting other wizards, I uphold that Gandalf could ONLY by Dumbledore. Harry thinks I'm absolutely ridiculous, but sweet, he'll add when I shoot a glance at him. Harry lies on the side of the bed nearest to the bathroom that connects us to Lilly, in a few months we'll move Lilly to another bedroom, slightly farther away, and put the baby in the closer one. Night calls are Harry's job, of course, who else? When he was in training he simply taught himself not to sleep for long periods of time, and it just sort of stuck with him. Between my depression, his work, Fred, Bill (who I haven't mentioned Harry spends a lot of time with, Bill adores Harry) and training he really didn't have much time for sleep back then.  
  
"Can we turn the light out soon, love?" he wants to know, we only have one large overhead light, and no one can sleep while it's on, it's a situation we should sort out soon.  
  
"In a minute, Harry, I'm not quite done," I reply quietly, I want to think about how to finish this whole thing properly, if there's one thing I'm not good at it's rounding everything up into an interesting ending that ties up any loose strings I've just left hanging. Harry has just wrapped his arms around me from behind and mumbled that I need to sleep more. I just laugh at him, he's the one who needs more sleep, we're almost never in bed at the same time, I normally wake up at midnight to hear him coming in from marking papers. I take a minute to watch him, while he ostensibly has his eyes closed, he's curled up to me, actually, he's on my pillow, but I don't mind. His hair is wild, and he isn't wearing a shirt, he never does to bed, he's wearing plaid pajama bottoms and grey socks (I don't think they started out grey- but I don't really want to know how they got that way).  
  
"Gin," he moans, "go to _sleep_. I'm sleepy, the baby's asleep, Lilly's asleep, please don't play insomniac tonight- the first night in forever that I'm actually home on time."  
  
"Forever only lasts two weeks?" I ask sarcastically.  
  
"Yes, it does- what did you think I meant when I promised to be with you forever?" he teases.  
  
"It's been almost seven years," I reply with a laugh.  
  
"That' s because I made a very big mistake at some point towards the very second I kissed you,' he says with that characteristic Potter smirk that Lilly can imitate perfectly, I certainly hope this baby doesn't have it- or his sense of humor, two of him is more than I can handle without pulling my hair out, thanks all the same.  
  
"And what was that?" I ask, still thinking about my appropriate ending, but playing along with joy, I always wanted to still be able to joke with my husband, and surprisingly I can. Everything's fallen into place.  
  
"I let myself fall in love with you," he says, still wearing that smirk and pulling himself up to kiss me on the lips. This lay forgotten on the floor the rest of the night, and I won't continue, I think that was a pretty good ending right there. 


	3. Emotionally Yours, Ron

I really don't want to be an idiot, it's not something I aspire too, I don't wake up every morning and say to myself "I think I'll go make Ginny's life hell today". Well, not often, anyway. But really, I mean, if she's going to insist on absolutely shoving herself into my life I might as well embrace it. But I will, just once more, make it clear, no matter how happy I am to have Harry as a brother-in-law, your best mate simply does _not_ marry your baby sister. It isn't done, as my sister-in-law Fleur would have said, had she survived. But it doesn't do to dwell on the deaths, does it? I mean, look where it got Ginny, the top of the Astronomy Tower on a cold December night screaming at the top of her lungs, but that was seven years ago.  
  
Fourteen years ago (to, approximately, the week) my sister and I met Harry James Potter. My sister absolutely idolized him, she fell in love with him very, very fast. Harry was rather indifferent to the ravings of a ten-year- old redhead at the time, I think. Harry and I soon became good friends, to be joined by Hermione Granger later that year. Ugh, it still makes my head hurt to think about Nicolas Flamel, so we won't go into to much detail on that one. I'll simply say that in those nine months I went from hating everything about Hermione to loving everything I hated about Hermione. Yes, that does make sense, think about it for a while, why don't you?  
  
Our second year, Hermione paralyzed comes quite quickly to mind, but aren't I supposed to be talking about my traitorous best mate and amorous sister? Ginny was controlled by Tom Riddle (let's not get into how to spell THAT name, I still don't like to say it anyway), she was taken to the Chamber of Secrets and Harry rescued her. Have I mentioned Lockhart? He was an absolute waste of cells, that man. I couldn't stand him, Harry still makes a horribly contorted face whenever he hears the words Witch, Weekly and Smile all in the same sentence. Ginny will occasionally put one of Lockhart's books on their dining room table in order to watch him turn a brilliant color of magenta. Ginny really is Fred and George's sister, well, Fred's now. I don't want to talk about that, though, I don't particularly think anyone does.  
  
The third year, of course, Ginny began her rather fast process of "getting over Harry" she wore a lot of makeup that year and would even occasionally speak to Harry without even blushing. Harry even commented to me once that she was rather good looking when she wasn't being a flustered idiot. We were introduced to Sirius Black that year, Harry's dad's best mate, Harry's godfather, convicted mass murderer and (drum roll, please) Petunia Evan's ex-fiancé, yes you read that correctly. When Vernon put her under the imperious curse when she was seventeen, she left Hogwarts before she finished her NEWTs, married Vernon and left Sirius just a little bit hanging out in the empty. He finally had to settle for living a pretty much celibate existence for the remaining nineteen years of his life. I always felt sort of sorry for Sirius, the way Harry spoke about Petunia must have really hurt him, I know that even after years of not seeing Hermione and knowing that she couldn't even really remember me, I would still feel a bit of a sting every time someone talked about her like Harry would of Petunia. But now, now it isn't much better, when Vernon was killed in the final battle (by some anonymous Auror who I'll possibly never meet, but always love just a little bit), the curse wore off slowly. And when Petunia remembered her relationship with her older sister and her treatment of Harry she went a little bit mad. Then she remembered Sirius, then Petunia found herself in St. Mungo's for a few months. She was fine for a while, this was just after Lilly was born and Harry brought his wife and daughter to his Aunt's Diagon Alley flat to meet her and later on described her as "a very sweet woman, but very..." then he had trailed off and said quietly, "there aren't words for it." I don't think there are. Petunia 'met' her son several weeks after she and Harry had spent the day together, and she collapsed, literally, all of her memories were obliterated. She's living in Bulgaria just now, at a rehabilitation clinic, but they don't expect her too heal.  
  
Off topic.  
  
My fourth year, um, are there words for that? No, probably not, but I can try. It was sort of horrible at the beginning because Harry and I weren't speaking, and well I do love Hermione with all my heart she makes an absolutely horrible best mate. Sorry, love, but it's true. Then there was _Vicky_, how much I hated him, if only because he had the guts to ask Hermione to the ball. All of you people didn't honestly believe that I'd never noticed she was a girl before that, did you? Ginny went to the ball with Neville and Harry was practically green about it, because I think he realized that he would have at least had a decent time with Ginny, I made a rather clumsy attempt at matchmaking as well that year. But stupid Ginny had already made plans! And then she went off and met _Corner_! Why don't my friends and siblings do what I tell them to? Not that I would have let them get married if I'd had any say in the whole thing.  
  
Sorry about that, Harry just stopped by with a very distressed looking Lilly in his arms, he didn't look all too pleased, either. He wanted me to take her for a few hours, maybe even overnight, because something was wrong with Ginny. It would have been Dad's sixtieth birthday today, and Ginny wasn't doing well with it, Mum has busied herself with Bill these past few weeks more than usual, and even I've been finding excuses to go nowhere near the Departement of Muggle Artifacts recently.  
  
My fifth year can be called interesting, it can be called the-year-Hermione- pretended-not-to-date-Vicky-and-then-showed-up-in-my-dorm-crying-her-eyes- out-because-he-broke-up-with-her. It can be called the year Ginny changed, obscurely, but she changed. She was still happy on the surface, but everyone could see that the glimmer in her eyes was a little bit less, that he trust in the justice of the world was fast fading. I think that if she and Harry had just gotten a little closer that year, if they had just pushed their friendship a little more than they would have gotten together, and maybe Ginny's trust in the world would be just slightly more. Her sense of just deserts is well-tuned now, though, and her sense of humor is almost back. Though she doesn't pull practical jokes any more, it hurts too much, for her. Well, what else, Sirius died. Harry and Ginny both decided that now was _not_ the time to plunge into depression, but rather the time to go into a sort of convoluted guilt/denial that they both seem to favor so much. Potters, I'll never get any of them. Even Lilly has a weird tendency to hold all her emotions inside and she'll only tell her parents what's wrong with her, it makes babysitting pure hell, let me tell you.  
  
The sixth year, the sixth year...what can I say? Hermione and I finally admitted our feelings for each other, and began to spend a lot more time "studying" together. Harry and Ginny were thus thrust together and became quite good chums, but Harry, the great, blind fool, was dating Luna Lovegood, then Georgia Wood, though she was Georgia something else back then and in three months she'll be Georgia Finnigan. Ginny was, well, Gin was Gin, that's all that can be said of her. She tried to date Dean Thomas and a few others, but if you looked carefully, she was always watching Harry, and he was always watching her. That's part of the reason they're such a good match, they'll always take good care of each other. They still do it, they'll care for the other no matter what, that's something they both need.  
  
The seventh year can be defined in a single moment, when Ginny was told Harry was dead, she didn't think. She just ran, and ran, and ran, for almost a kilometer, until she hit Harry's arms, and then she struggled against him, but he pulled her back into his tent and tried to comfort her. I think that was the first time either of them even remotely considered admitting their feelings to the other, but it was successful. The next time we saw them they were screeching at each other, the conversation was rather memorable and stupid, showing exactly how little Harry _really_ knows about us Weasleys.  
  
"Gin, I've got to go," he said to her, just loud enough for Hermione and I to hear with our ears pressed up against his door. We're his best mates, we've got rights, after all!  
  
"No," she protested.  
  
"Yes, and you...you stay here, you hear me, Gin?" He actually told her to do something, let me tell you something about that relationship, Ginny is normally in charge, and the rules weren't going to break just then.  
  
"I'm not letting you go," she said stubbornly. I heard one of them get up and begin to pace, I suspect it was Harry, he adores pacing. It's been driving me insane for fourteen years now.  
  
"To bad, because I'm not going to let you out of this tent," Harry snapped back at her.  
  
"Then you'll be safe," Ginny screeched, now they had begun the yelling, this was going to be painful, wasn't it?  
  
"You'll stay here, then?" Harry asked.  
  
"Not without you," she asserted her point yet again.  
  
"Too bad," he said, then his voice became much lower, "look, Sugar, I love you way to much to let anything happen to you-"  
  
"Then you understand how I feel!" Ginny interrupted him, "you're not leaving this tent without me."  
  
"And you're not leaving this tent period." Harry retorted, his anger competing with his despair.  
  
"You kiss me and then you expect me to just stay here and wait for you to die?" Ginny screamed, George turned his head from where he was standing nearby, saying his goodbyes to Angelina.  
  
"Thanks for the optimism, Sugar," Harry replied and he made to storm out of the tent. That just didn't work out. She followed him. She followed him even as he walked into McGonagall's private tent, where he knew Professor Dumbledore would be.  
  
"I'm going," he informed the wizened wizard quietly.  
  
"Are you taking Miss Weasley?" the Professor asked in a tone of voice that clearly indicated that even if Harry didn't know it himself, Harry didn't have any sort of choice in the matter. I always knew there was a reason everyone thought he knew everything.  
  
"I was rather hoping not to," Harry said, and both Ginny and Dumbledore laughed. Only Harry speaks like that in moments of crisis and emotional stress. Ginny's laughter died out soon, though, and Dumbledore began to speak.  
  
"Harry, Miss Weasley," he began, rasping slightly, the many years suddenly evident in his voice. "I will only give this advice, if you truly care for each other the strength of two is far better than that of one. But if in any way there are misgivings, falsities, or deceits in your relationship, then I advise that Miss Weasley remain here, in the camp. Voldemort has no qualms about hitting below the belt, so the cracks in your trust for each other must be either nonexistent or long forgotten," his voice brightened, "they are hard requirements to fill, but perhaps simple for some." I heard Ginny clear her throat and Harry take several steps, and I'd be willing to bet he took those steps in order to wrap his arms around my sister. Hermione was at this point busily making the door see-through for herself, ask her for more accurate descriptions of these events.  
  
"Sir, Voldemort is an excellent Legilimens, and, well, with his connections to both Ginny and I, would it be... um...safer for the rest if we were to separate ourselves from you?" Harry asked.  
  
"Harry, don't," Ginny snapped, the two words she says every single time he starts to blame himself for anything. She'll do it at least once a day, and more or less for fear of Gin's retribution he'll stop.  
  
"I don't want to hurt her, Sir, I want her to stay safe," Harry said quietly, Ginny let out a small sob and I heard Harry murmur something into her ear.  
  
"This is not my decision to make, but, Harry, the auguries say that tonight is the predestined night for your confrontation. It is your decision whether you go unaccompanied or not."  
  
"I can't live without you, Harry," Ginny said, a loud and desperate last attempt to get him to take her. She knew that if it came down to it, if his mind was truly made up, she was staying whether or not she wanted too. I think he knew that if he made her do anything against her will, she'd fight against it no matter what he did, and she'd probably win. Harry has this weird weakness, he just won't curse the people he loves.  
  
"Then you have some sort of guess as to how I feel!" Harry snapped back, you'll notice they were arguing in circles at this point.  
  
"If you die..." she said, half ominously, half despairingly. Fred was walking by, Alicia would be fighting too and she was saying goodbye to her family. God, everyone was saying goodbye that night, and it scares me to think how many of them were really saying goodbye forever.  
  
"I'll try not to," Harry responded sarcastically, choosing to ignore the desperation in her voice. I know, I'm getting to sound like a bad romance writer, if you're this far into it you just can't get out.  
  
"If you die," Ginny fought to continue her sentence, but I could tell she had to be crying to hard to get the whole thing out. "If you die I'll have to follow you." Dumbledore and Harry both took in their breath quickly, but Harry had soon regained his senses.  
  
"No," he told her, quietly, "no dying, Ginny, no dying."  
  
"Why on earth not?" Ginny asked him, sound for all the world like mum asking me why I wouldn't eat spinach. They needed to take less things in stride, these two.  
  
"Because, you're much to great of a person to waste your life on me," Harry replied, with emotion in his voice. I've made a great show of being Ginny's overprotective big brother these past seven years, but at that exact moment, I knew those were hands she could be trusted in.  
  
"If I'm such a great person let me choose life without you!"  
  
"Then choose it!"  
  
"No."  
  
"YES!"  
  
"NEVER!" I don't know what happened, perhaps she looked at him strangely, but he relented.  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Good." They left the tent from the back, we assume.  
  
The next time I saw either Harry or Ginny was almost a week later, they had been put in St. Mungo's most restricted ward and no one was allowed anywhere near either of them. All we knew about that night was what Harry's brief letter had told us. Voldemort was defeated, he and Ginny weren't dead but, as he put it, "closer than we would prefer," he said he'd see us when he saw us. That they both loved us all and didn't want us to worry about them. Not worry when our baby sister and the boy we'd all come to think of as a brother or son were in the part of St. Mungo's said to be reserved for hopeless cases? Not worry when the same little sister was apparently "in no condition to write yet, but it's coming along,"? I will never understand Potters, or potential Potters. Ever.  
  
Harry was reading over my shoulder, having come over to (finally) fetch his daughter on his way to work and told me not to worry, they didn't get the Weasleys either. He then went into the kitchen and proceeded to steal half my breakfast, convincing my wife by saying "But, Mione, what if I just...accidentally, of course... forgot to pick up your kids next Saturday night...and just accidentally turned off the Floo and the telephone and put up wards?" At least _he _knows how to get to her. He agreed to take our son next Saturday so that Hermione and I could go out on a date of sorts at Diagon Alley.  
  
The next year, George died around November eighteenth, Ginny's birthday. And on December twenty-first, she threatened to throw herself off the Astronomy Tower, she was that depressed. We'd known, of course, that she wasn't dealing well with the war the summer before, when she had still been weak from that night, and had come to rely on Harry as her only means of communication with the outside world. Well, Harry, Hermione, George and I. It hit her so hard that he died, even though he had been ill for months, the only person who sunk lower was Angelina. George's Angel. No, I refuse to dwell on that, she's as close to happy as she's ever going to get again now, without her George, and I'm trying not to remember. Trying not to think about my father and my brother- brothers, George, who "died like a hero" as Moody would say, Bill, Bill, we've all lost Bill, he was so... God, there aren't words for Bill. And Percy, we don't hear from him much, well, Hermione, Harry and I don't. Gin does, Mum does and Fred never does, he simply kept himself separated from everyone he didn't think he could "help". He never did really believe anything anyone told him about the second war, no ministry officials really do, to this day. Denial (sigh). Gin even takes care of his kids on occasion, but Harry rarely comes into contact with them, and Percy is forever encouraging her to leave Harry. Percy hasn't noticed that wizarding marriages are damn near impossible to end just yet. Harry and I were at the Auror academy, Hermione was working at Hogwarts, but living with me on the weekends, since her parents had divorced a year previously, and she couldn't stand going back there. And after Christmas, Harry and Ginny were living together. Everyone agreed that:  
  
Mum had enough on her hands as it was  
  
Harry and Ginny had been through something together, alone, and it wasn't something that they were ever going to forget or leave behind them, but healing was necessary together.  
  
Have we mentioned that Ginny wouldn't leave and Harry _still_ won't curse the people he loves into submission?  
  
The second and last year of Auror training with Harry and I was also the year Harry and Ginny were engaged and Ginny graduated then a year later, in a ceremony with almost two thousand attendants, they were married, then they ran off and weren't heard from or seen for a month and a half. When Ginny came back she started training to be a Healer, and they were sort of on the outs with each other mostly because they both wanted to deny that life was pretty much rolling along fine, and no one was going to come take happiness away from them.  
  
The year after they had their first daughter, Lilly. Lilly stole Harry and Ginny's hearts the moment they saw her. She is their world, they are possibly the best parents _ever_, except for my mum and dad, of course. Lilly, and any of their other children, are, of course, the best possible target for a death eater, or anyone else particularly wanting to make the whole world go kaplooey. Harry would murder them if they hurt his little girl, then Gin would bring them back to life so she could kill them again. Honestly, that little girl isn't overprotected, Ginny wouldn't stand for that, but she's hardly ever out of her parents earshot. Harry adores his daughter, he thinks the world of that baby, she's brilliant, I'll give you that, and, as Ginny says, even if she looks a bit like her dad's mum and Ginny I'm a manticore if she hasn't got Harry's sense of humor, and that grin he always gives when annoyed. It drives us all _mad_! As Gin says, we all love him, we all love Lilly, but we'd quite like it if they were quite entirely different.  
  
Harry once said that in seventeen years he might get to take his wife out to dinner on their anniversary, but since Lilly was born on their first, that didn't happen. They spend the night together though, somewhere close to the house, and they leave Lilly with Hermione and I, or with mum.  
  
Right now life is just going for both of them, they are actually happy. Once, when we were seventeen, Harry told me that if he was ever happy he'd know he was dreaming. Then he kissed his girl, and he married that girl. And a few weeks ago, our wives had gone out for the day and the kids were asleep and we were talking, he told me that he was happy. He actually told me that he was feeling like nothing could make him unhappy as long as he had these two people by his side. He referred to someone as his family. Harry loves them so much, they're his girls. And Ginny, what can be said of Ginny? She smiles again, she takes care of Bill, sometimes. She falls asleep in somebody's arms every night and she doesn't have too worry that her papers are going to write back to her. Ginny isn't scared any more. Sometimes she has bad days, but we all do. I _know_I do, Gin tells me Harry does, and Hermione does. Lilly and Allan are sort of what twenty five years of hell equaled, their generation. Their parents lives through wars, they can live in a world that is peaceful, and they are loved. Nobody tells them what names to be afraid of, everyone (but me) says Voldemort loud and clear. And we won't forget the people we lost, ever. I should just add that even if everyone, even Harry, is happy again now, we'll never forget that two-year-long purgatory we lived through. Never.  
  
Emotionally Yours Ron 


	4. Without Mention

**Without Mention**

**So, I've updated my two slow stories in the past few days, this is the strangest POV of this story, possibly, I don't know how many parts I will do, but there are a few that come after this one already, and I've got Hermione half-written and swear I'll update over the summer!**

I have been asked to try to tell the life story of Harry Potter, but it has come to my mind that his life story isn't all that important, because Harry Potter has never asked to be famous. I was speaking with him a few weeks ago and he told me that all he could ever ask for was waiting for him in a small cottage in Hogsmeade, and that is very true.  
  
Harry grew up without a family of any sort, unless you count Petunia Dursley, but after what had happened to her we can trust that she didn't show an ounce of compassion for Harry. I always felt a rather strong tinge of regret for leaving him with the Dursleys that fated October night. Fate, now, I could simply say that Harry Potter was born to the wrong parents, in the wrong place and at the wrong time, and with his unfortunate coordination of circumstances, Fate simply took over. It could also be said that Fate threw he and Ginevra into each other's arms, but that wouldn't be altogether fair. Because, you see, Fate couldn't have picked a better person.  
  
I met Harry once more when he was eleven, and I always wondered what the world missed of Harry Potter, did we miss temper tantrums (like his daughter)? Did we miss a quiet, respectful boy (I doubt it)? But, most of all, did we miss a different person? Did Harry always know that something was missing from his life? Was his loss always constant? The gap in his life is filled now, but for the ten years before that that I knew him, that loss was always there. But now, whenever I look at him, I miss his scar completely, what I do see is the children's book that has found it's way into his briefcase, or the lunch Ginevra has packed him, or the wedding ring that was once his fathers. He proved himself to me that year, and I have promised him that I won't discuss that prophecy here, so I'll continue with scant a mention.  
  
His second year, Harry did save his little bride, as I have been calling her for years, because she really is quite a bit shorter than he. But, that's beside the point, and it has always been my personal opinion that Ms. Ginevra Weasley-Potter has never gotten enough credit for what she did. Ginevra and Harry agree with me, Harry told me at last year's Christmas party (with his wife on his arm, as always at any event where there MIGHT be dancing!) she could take his place and be famous, he'd gladly stay home an anonymous with Lilly. Ginevra also proved herself stronger than one might think, though it is a rarely acknowledged fact, Virginia had to put as much willpower into the destroying of Tom's diary as Harry did.  
  
In his third year Harry found Sirius Black, and occasionally I'm sure he wished he hadn't. Harry managed to make an angle where he was responsible for his death, Harry a guilty sort of person. Ginevra can't stand to see people feeling bad about themselves, life works out rather well for those two. Harry won't let her hate herself, and Ginevra won't let Harry hate himself. But, I will say here, that Sirius Black's life had ended with Petunia Evan's marriage to Vernon Dursley, and Harry was one of the few things that ever brought life back in to his eyes. Actually, most people will say that surely anyone who knew Lily and James was forcibly reminded of them by Harry and his little bride, yes, but by appearance only, the way they act towards each other brings back Sirius and Petunia in a terrifying way. Harry and Ginevra also both met Dementors for the first time, Harry can deal with them now, but with Ginevra's bout of depression six years ago, her defenses towards them are weaker than ever. It's a horrible fear of anyone who knows our vibrant redhead and her daughter that she will encounter Dementors when she's alone with Lilly.  
  
Harry's name was drawn for the Tri-Wizard Tournament when he was only fourteen, and with great adversity was that met, seeing as he was the second Hogwarts Champion. Ginevra was, as I remember it, putting a concerted effort into both getting over him (that worked out just fabulously) and supporting him. Harry was busily trying to aggravate anyone who cared to be aggravating towards him, and fighting with Ron, who was ignoring Hermione, who was ignoring Ron. Have I mentioned lately that I have always regretted getting myself locked up in a building with a bunch of teenagers nine months of the year? Well, I do. And, he was absolutely enamored with a Ravenclaw named Cho Chang, who, if I remember correctly, later became a Death Eater, but was proved to have been under Imperious the entire time, and finally married a Michael Corner sometime last year, at the age of twenty-four, one of the latest marriages recently. After the war, people seemed to realize that life is too short to let love go, more and more married twenty-year-olds are showing up, but I approve in a sort of way. The return of Lord Voldemort did not cause havoc in the wizarding community, mainly because the bumbling idiot of a Minister For Magic wouldn't bother believing in what was probably the only major decision of his horribly incompetent and disorderly in a rather peaceful way rule! I'm sorry about that, it was a bit ridiculous and extremely biased, but can any of you truly blame me? With the exception of both Minerva and Aberforth, of course, I don't think those two have ever encountered anything that is not my fault in some way.  
  
In Harry's fifth year he began to draw away from us all for any number of reasons to do with aforementioned damnable prophecy that he has forbidden me to mention ("If I here one more word about what a little hero I was I think I'll have to curse someone..."). And, as always, though then it wasn't much of an always, Ginevra simply pulled him out of it. Harry never did react well when others tried to psychoanalyze him, and Ginevra skipped the step of trying to make him feel better, she told him to feel better, and I've yet to meet someone stupid enough not to listen to a Weasley woman when she's mad. Even little Lilly strikes fear into all of our hearts on occasion. Harry and Ginevra, as I'm sure you've heard one too many times, make each other feel better every day, death continues to follow them, and they continue to put up as good a fight as they can.  
  
In Harry's sixth year he involved himself with the war as little as was possible, preferring to prepare himself for the confrontation by finding strength in two amazing women, Luna Lovegood (now Longbottom) Georgia Wood (then Blanche, soon to be Finnegan), his two best friends (we're all well acquainted with the Dream Team, I'm sure) and Ginevra Weasley. Harry found solace hiding himself behind the guise of a normal sixteen year old with a normal life, yet somehow living a conflict older than time itself at the same time. It's an interesting paradox, but seeing as an extended paper on the prophecy is not my intention, I won't go into the whole affair.  
  
In his seventh year the battle of Hogwarts began in November, in June, he finished it, with a considerable amount of help from his little bride. I don't like to talk about that night, it is an infringement of privacy on many parts, and we all know the end of the story.  
  
Two years after that Harry was married to Ginevra, they were young, but they loved each other very much. And they were afraid, she had tried to end her own life, he had been the only thing keeping her alive for over a year, and he was an Auror in training, imminent demise comes with the territory. They had their marital problems, or so Molly assures me, but they are both the type of person who falls in love once, and they hold on to that love forever, they can't fall in love again, they won't fall in love again. When Ginevra was twenty-one and Harry twenty-two, they had their daughter, Lily. Lily is the most important thing in either of their lives, she looks just like her mother and two grandmothers, yet she's got Harry's personality. They have the same sense of humor, and the same green eyes that show the emotions that they want to keep hidden.  
  
That would be an appropriate place to end the story of Harry Potter's life, the look in his eyes when he sees Ginevra and Lily. He lights up. Or perhaps the normal life he leads now, for example. This morning, he was late for his first class of the day, and realized that he'd taken his wife's briefcase, so had a few loose charts she's been keeping up to date to keep herself entertained rather than a fifth year DADA paper. Then, when he had set them to reading a chapter, for no reason any one could really see, he flew down to the professors room and attempted to Floo his house, but he remembered that Ginevra would be dropping Lily off at her Aunt Angelina's in order to keep an appointment with her doctor, so he finally managed to catch Poppy, who quite likes Harry, and thus took his class for him, as he Flooed himself home, in order to get his briefcase. But, throughout the whole thing, he was grinning slightly, because of the simply domesticity that he knew so little of. When he did arrive in his class, he quickly told the second year class he had made stand in the hallway for fifteen minutes the story (Poppy had had to go because of a first year flying injury) and had them rolling on the floor by the end. By the time he finally assigned them some light reading, and was sitting down at his desk, he had wasted half of his morning. But he was happy, his life may be chaotic, it may be unbelievably clichéd, but he loves it, Ginevra loves it. And they're living it, that's more than would have been expected for them seven years ago, much, much more. 


End file.
